So four new songs have been put up on here: www.myspace.com/heislegend
We'd all really love it if you'd listen to them. And if you have any famous friends, Well then you should let them listen too... People like Dave Grohl, Rob Zombie, Will Ferrell, Tom Waits, Slash, anyone in Queens Of The Stone Age, Radiohead, Nick Cave, Marilyn Manson, The Black Keys, Judd Apatow, Seth Rogan, Paul Rudd, Michael Showalter, Or Michael Ian Black, or Zoey Deschanel, Jay-Z, Shannon Sossamon The cast and crew of SNL, Daniel Day Lewis, Justin Timberlake, Lemme from Motorhead, Iggy Pop, Missy Elliot, all of the Rolling Stones and the Last remaining Beatles. Michael Gondry, Chris Cunningham, Spike Jones, We'd really like for Conan O'Brien, Jack and Meg White, Hank III, the entire band Slayer and Metallica, Tool, Korn, The Deftones, Sevendust, Slipknot, Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden, The Melvins, Dean and Gene Ween, Flea, anyone in Kings of Leon, My Morning Jacket, Doves, Arrested Development, Mos Def, Outkast, The people who made Family Guy, The Cast of Scrubs, Chuck Klosterman, Dave Eggars, Anthony Bourdain, Bob Dylan, Jack Black, Rachel Ray, Jude Law, The Cohen Brothers, Jeff Bridges, Jim Carrey, Bjork, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton, Hell, let your mom hear it.. You know, just force it on anyone cooler than you and I...
A cold liquid pours down his back, The hue of movie theater seats from the 50's. Coffee stains on a white pair of shoes and Y chromosomes under his fingernails. The paint starts to change colors a little as he remembers why he left home in the first place. "I can't go there anymore" His brain whispered between his ears. The quotation marks were unnecessary yet still applied.
When the doorbell rang she was pouring beer into the bathtub. "Doctor said it will help my skin, and it's good for the baby." Everyone knew she wasn't pregnant but hell, Why tell the truth now. She just realized that her heart wouldn't allow her the convenience of reading the clock hands. Doesn't matter anyway, "He just dropped in to get some of his things." she smiled, like it was yesterday, or a thousand yesterdays ago.
He slammed the trunk the way wardens slam cell doors. It wasn't exactly necessary unless someone happened to be filming it. Though there was never a ring exchanged between the two of them, if there had been, this would have been the moment that she took it off. In her mind the ring took a little more than a tug to remove from her finger. This signified the fact that it had been there since the proposal. The skin underneath a fresh baby pink from the years it had been sheltered from the sun. This is the moment that she flicks it in the air. This is the moment that the sky turns electric black and this is the moment that winged beasts never before recorded by National Geographic fly down around the scorned couple, swirling around them with great fury. The is the moment the creatures scream primal battle cries used to defend their race from the dinosaurs. This is the moment when both of their hearts yell, "there was never a ring in the first place."
The sun failed to set that night. It was still a mystery the next morning. Needless to say, the moon was pretty upset but would never learn how to show his true emotions.
He sat down to drink his coffee, as she sat down to hers. Habits such as these don't break over night. A cigarette left burning in the ashtray, the smoke sending up a signal that neither of them gave a second thought to. It was ignorantly passed off as smoke and only smoke. But smoke is magical and has been since the beginning of time.
It seemed that the day floated around both of them the same way, Like manufactured snow globes with beach scenes inside. Both getting undressed and slipping into different showers. Both touching themselves to feel comforted. Both feeling very uncomfortable. That night as they took their walks, fate put them on opposite ends of the same park. The smoke from their shared habit met at the very top of the snow globe where the air bubble sits quietly, waiting and watching. The two streams, bowing slightly to the other, danced together like young lovers at middle school dances. Stiff and awkward, elbows out, sweat stains evident, Erection well hidden. The music could not penetrate the thick plastic casing of the globe and as the tears floated upward through that sticky sweet solution, it mixed with the flecks of glitter and tiny plastic birds. Sadness poured over the two of them. "So this is it? This is what it feels like to be alone."
Life's giant number two pencil descended from heaven, still factory sharpened erasure clean, no smudges or bite marks.
"Please erase this mistake for me. I have no writing utensil to speak of."
Currently
listening
:
White Pepper
By
Ween
Release date: 02 May, 2000
Written by my friend Nicla. Your faith in music is inspiring.
The Jester ran broken from the king's castle, the bells on his shoes jingling a melancholy melody. He stumbled blindly past the Royal Music Hall where the synthesized, fabricated, scoured and bleached sounds blared. He nudged past the subjects waiting dutifully for their mind-numbing elixir…and narrowly avoided being crushed by the heaps of tumbling electronic rubble.
As the cacophony faded, the bells stopped beating their sad song. The jester found himself collapsed at the edge of the King's domain. Sweet sleep descended on the ruined heap….words, sounds, thoughts, dreams, fears, hopes trickled out with each breathe. Without warning, the heavens opened to the bass crack of thunder. Rain sluiced down to baptize body, mind and soul with the insistent echo of rock and roll; reverberating voices refusing to be stilled.
Consciousness dawned as familiar, foreign harmony was heard. Jester stirred and drew tentatively closer to the intoxicating resonance….a young boy sat cross-legged, hair draped across his face, playing guitar. There, in the rain-soaked outskirts a new sound, a rock driven sound, belted forth with the swagger of Jim, the voice of Janis, and the soul of John. The Jester approached, the boy smiled in greeting, as the playing continued. The boy recognized the Jester – the Jester recognized himself. The musician leaned in as the boy whispered, "The crownless shall be king once more ……..
Currently
listening
:
Electric Warrior
By
T. Rex
Release date: 25 February, 2003
I am perched on a plateau with no weapon to speak of. Only a bucket and a mop and an illustrated book about birds at arms reach. Below me is a cold, dark hell. I stay well hidden, as most cowards do. I am watching a king eat although some would call this a feast. A feast of souls. His tongue can no longer tastes. It is as tough as deer meat and charred with guilt. It cannot taste the differences between a Beatle and a Stone. He will eat a Musical Masterpiece and wash it down with Electronic Masturbation. Between a belch and a cough he announced to his court, "It tastes like chicken. Let's have 5 more just like it."
I have not eaten in years. And as these smell sounds reach my noses ears i can feel my stomach's mind grinding inside itself. I am so terribly hungry and not thinking clearly. Maybe if i dove from here, at just the right moment, maybe i could fall right into the King's mouth. Maybe if i am not cut by his jagged tongue, and maybe not burned by the bile floating in his gullet, I could get just one mouthful. I need It to live... to be alive. Before I could second guess myself i was falling from my haven, now lodged in the Kings throat.
The thought of a full stomach gave me the strength to claw my way down as the King gagged and choked. The decaying smell of rock and roll sticking to my skin and hair like suction cups from the vines of the Octopus's Garden. The king vomited with conviction, the way i would imagine The Devil vomiting, spewing through a half smile. Lying there, in a pool of thousands of hip shaking, lip licking melodies, covered in every hue of neon with chunks of blood and feedback in my hair. It was a beautiful sight. All of these forgotten gems floating on top of the sounds that influenced them. each one of them adding something new, some new sound never recorded, the most beauitiful sounds I'd ever heard. The music was intoxicating, like one thousand orchestras warming up for the return of the savior. I could not help myself, I fell to my knees and shoveled the undigested floaters into my mouth.
The King looked down and laughed uncontrollably, his court laughed backup. everyone watching, everyone laughing. I lifted my head to steal another glance at the King as he turned his back to me, allowing his people to praise him for this moment of entertainment. He raised both his hands high over his head as his whole court cheered and threw gold coins at his feet. His right hand formed the Heavy Metal Horns. His left, a Peace sign. It was only then that i realized; It all really did taste like chicken.
I woke from this dream in a panic. For so long it was easy to lie to you. it wasn't like we had developed the strongest of bonds over the years that we had been acquainted. Our only meeting place was the stage. I danced around and did my job like all good Jesters should. All you have to do is find a disguise. You'll never have to be yourself if you are someone else. "sing and dance, drink and smoke, Make a few friends, make a few dollars and sleep on the floor." they said. I wasn't complaining. It was so much fun. "You're living the dream Man! Rockin and Rollin!" But i just worked for the King's eye. One eye he kept on his entertainment the other on his plate. "May it never be empty, May Rock and Roll never die." The King never quite realized that his meals perished as he chewed them. The word masticate has always sounded pretty death metal.
Now that i am home and it's been a few months since i stepped foot on the stage i have spent my time in prayer. I prayed that "They" would send us a hero. WIll we ever be saved? With The King eating our dreams i fear that the crop will be grazed to the root soon.
My rejection by the King's court was so bittersweet. The blessing and the curse. Loneliness and being alone are very different. Both knives, yes, but one is dull and one Razor sharp. Either way, Both draw blood and both force reverence. I am still on my knees. Praying to Jimi and Janis, John and Bob, Buckley and Bolan, Hell i even prayed to Elvis. "Please! I am begging you, for the sake of dance, For sake of sex, for War, for Peace, for my Mom and Dad, Every filthy bar and all of my drunken friends who fill them, ever Sexy little fox with one finger on the jukebox button and one on mine, Men, Women, and Children alike, ALL OF OUR SOULS! SOMEONE SAVE OUR ROCK AND ROLL! SOMEONE ASSASSINATE THE KING!
No one answers. No one is listening. Everyone is at the Internet, pretending to be friends with the cyber world, having cyber sex, ignoring cyber wars, Shopping at cyber stores, watching cyber actors and actresses attend cyber parties, all tanked out on cyber speed washed down by cyber wine coolers. The King has given us all the distractions we need to forget about everything we once dreamed of. Just think, With music downloads you'll never need to visit a record store again. It can be pumped into your skull By wires and millions of trees will be saved. Kinda like the Matrix, but with less shitty electronica.
I do kinda miss the kingdom. And yeah i know, times are tough all over. But the game is so hard to play. The radio is sick and dying and no one is gonna change the world. I hate to say it but it's true. Protesters don't listen to music and Musicians don't protest. So I'll just stay at home, Tear my couch apart in hopes to find enough change to buy cigarettes and maybe on the way to the store i happen across an old lonely shoes left lying in the street. You know, When boiled With imagination it makes a damn fine piece of meat. With a full belly my eye wanders out the window to those Kingdom lights. They sure are a lonely sight when this old shack has the blues. But when you sell your soul for Rock and Roll you only get $1.52.
cooky/wacky
hungry
blah
bouncy
thankful
